Every Ending is a New Beginning
by WinterSky101
Summary: After everything, Kallus finds himself on board the Ghost, trying to work out how his life will be from now on. But however isolated he might feel, he's not alone, and if the Ghost crew has their way, he'll never be alone again. Post-3.22 (Zero Hour).


**Trigger warning for a panic attack and other effects of PTSD.**

* * *

The hallway clears out slowly until Kallus is the only person left standing in it. Everyone else on board the Ghost is avoiding him; even though word has spread that he isn't an Imperial anymore, he's still wearing his ISB uniform, and he can tell most of the rebels don't feel comfortable with him being there.

Honestly, considering the things he's done, he doesn't blame them for it.

Kallus leaves the hallway after it empties, slipping further away from the bridge. He doesn't go to the cargo bay - he saw other people going down there, and he thinks everyone will be happier if he stays away - and instead goes to the docking area for the Phantom II. It's completely empty up there. Kallus tucks himself away in a corner and hopes no one finds him.

He lets out a sigh and leans against the wall. Almost immediately, his legs give out under him and he slides down the wall until he reaches the floor. He tries to keep his legs tucked against his chest so he doesn't take up too much space, but the position hurts both his legs and his battered ribs. He stretches out his legs tentatively, leaning his head back against the wall. The adrenaline has drained from his body already, leaving him exhausted and pained. He doesn't think his leg is broken again, but it's clearly unhappy. Most of his ribs are probably at least cracked, and he thinks two of them are broken. Thrawn got a bit sloppy towards the end, when Kallus refused to give him the reaction he wanted. There's a knot on the back of his head, and Kallus is fairly certain he's at least mildly concussed. His black eye keeps swelling, enough so that soon he won't be able to see out of that eye at all. His lip keeps starting to bleed again every time he moves his mouth.

It's not the worst off Kallus has ever been, but it's pretty damn close. Still, he was lucky. He saw the survivors of the Atollon attack, and many of them were in much worse shape than him. There were a few that he wasn't sure would survive the night. His injuries hurt, yes, and they'll compromise his ability to work with the Rebellion, assuming anyone trusts him to work with them, but they're not life-threatening. He'll be in pain for a few months, but he's probably not going to die.

He hadn't ever really thought he'd live as a rebel.

He's been a rebel for a while, in a way, but he's still been an Imperial in a lot of ways as well. Being a double agent meant that he could fight for the Rebellion without having to entirely cut out the Imperial part of him. He doesn't have that luxury anymore. He doesn't think he should miss it, and yet, a part of him does.

Kallus hears someone approaching him and tries to push himself upright, using the wall to prop himself up, but his legs won't support his weight and he ends up sliding back down to the floor. The vulnerability doesn't sit well with him - no one is every vulnerable if they can help it in the Empire - but he hopes whoever is going past will simply keep going and ignore him.

And then the door to the hallway opens and the little C1-series astromech wheels into the hall. Kallus blinks as it comes up to him, warbling something he doesn't understand. His Binary is fairly good, but he's too exhausted to translate. Things keeps slipping out of his mind, and Binary is the most recent casualty.

The droid beeps at him again, bumping into his leg gently. "I'm sorry," Kallus says, his voice unexpectedly hoarse. "I don't understand."

The droid - his operating number is C1-10P, but the Ghost crew have some nickname for him that Kallus can't remember - beeps at him again. Its arms gesture upwards, then it bumps into his leg.

"Do you want me to get up?" Kallus asks dubiously. "Am I in the way?"

The droid lets out a sound of irritation, then warbles something else. Kallus catches the phrase "with me" and frowns.

"Do you want me to go with you somewhere?"

The droid makes an affirmative noise and nudges Kallus again. It grabs at him with its little arms and tries to pull him upright. Despite himself, Kallus chuckles a bit.

"Alright, yes, I'm coming." Between the droid and the wall, he manages to leverage himself upright. The little droid must be stronger than it looks, as it supports most of his weight without a problem. Kallus' own body can't even do that at the moment.

Still leaning on the droid, Kallus half-limps, half-staggers around the ship. He's not quite sure where they're going, but he obediently follows the droid until they turn onto a familiar hallway.

He knows where this hallway goes.

"The bridge?" he asks, frowning down at the little droid, who is still leading him closer and closer to the door at the end. "I don't think I'm supposed to be here."

The droid nudges Kallus' leg again, pushing him a step forward. It burbles out something Kallus doesn't understand and gives him another push.

"I really don't think-" Kallus begins, but he clamps his mouth shut when the droid pushes him close enough that the door opens. The other five members of the Ghost crew are inside, and they all turn towards him as the door opens.

Kallus wishes his leg were well enough that he could run away.

"Chopper," Hera says fondly. _That's_ the nickname Kallus couldn't remember. He can't believe he forgot it. Maybe he's more concussed than he thought. "You found Kallus. Good job."

Chopper warbles out something that sounds very self-satisfied and bumps Kallus again, pushing him onto the bridge. Kallus doesn't want to get any closer, but Chopper is still moving, and Kallus doesn't think he'll be able to stay upright without Chopper's support.

Zeb, who's sitting in one of the seats, gets up. "Sit down before you fall over," he tells Kallus, gently pushing him towards the seat when Kallus stays frozen. He really wishes people would stop pushing him; his entire body aches, and that's not helping.

"Did you need something?" Kallus asks, sinking gingerly into the seat.

"We got all of the survivors settled in the cargo bay, but Zeb realized you weren't there," Hera explains.

Kallus feels his ears burn in embarrassment and hopes it's not too noticeable. "I apologize. I can go down there right now-"

"Not yet, you aren't," Zeb growls, and Kallus makes the mistake of turning quickly to face him. The lightheadedness steals over him quickly and his vision goes dotted with black for a moment before he can shake it off. When it finally clears, Zeb is leaning over him, his face far too close. Kallus startles, reflexively pushing Zeb away harshly before his brain catches up with his body and he realizes what he's done.

"I'm sorry," he gasps, his breaths coming a bit too quickly. His ribs _burn_.

"Not your fault," Zeb replies easily. Kallus only managed to get him to stagger back half a step, and he seems entirely unfazed by it. "We're all a bit jumpy after the day we had."

He says it so easily, like they all had the same day, like Kallus' day didn't include accidentally revealing the location of Atollon to Thrawn. Kallus feels sick, although some of that might also be the concussion.

"It was my fault that Thrawn found you," he blurts out, wishing he could take back the words the second they leave his mouth. The entire crew stares at him and he consciously forces himself not to shrink back against the chair. Whatever punishment they decide to give him, he'll accept it without question. He knows he deserves it.

"What do you mean?" Kanan finally asks. His sightless eyes seem to pierce right through Kallus' soul, and he wonders if Kanan is doing some sort of Jedi trick on him. "It was your message that let us know Thrawn was coming."

"No, it wasn't," Kallus replies miserably. "I was just going to warn you that Thrawn knew about your planned attack on Lothal. But Thrawn knew I was Fulcrum, and he found me, and-" Guilt twists in Kallus' stomach. "He traced the trajectory of my message, cross-referenced it with the trajectory of General Dodonna's fleet, and figured out where Atollon was."

"But we deleted it from his files," Ezra protests. "How did he know it was there?"

"Ancient art from the sector depicts the planet," Kallus replies. He swallows down the desperate, _I didn't tell him, I swear, I didn't break._ He's not going to beg. He didn't beg when Thrawn tortured him, he's not going to beg now.

"It's not your fault," Hera says. "You were trying to warn us. If Thrawn was prepared for us to attack Lothal, we would have been slaughtered there."

"No, you don't _understand_ ," Kallus retorts. They don't get it, they don't know that he's to blame for everything that just happened. "Thrawn wanted me to warn you. The meeting where he discussed Lothal's defenses was a trap. He needed me to send a transmission so he could trace it, and I did it."

"We've all fallen into Thrawn's traps before," Sabine says. "He's smart. And if you hadn't sent the transmission, he would have destroyed everyone during the attack on Lothal."

"It's not your fault," Zeb says, but it is, Kallus knows that it is, he saw the blame in the eyes of every single survivor that was onboard the Ghost. If he hadn't sent the transmission, if he beat Thrawn, if he escaped earlier, maybe he could have changed something. Maybe he could have helped, instead of standing uselessly on the bridge, watching Thrawn defeat the Rebel fleet one ship at a time. Maybe he could have done _something_ -

"Kallus," Kanan says, and Kallus realizes he's spiraling, he's crumbling under everything that's happened today, he's dangerously close to a breakdown, _he cannot have a breakdown here._

"I'll go," he chokes out, although he's not sure where he's going to go. "I'll leave, I-"

His leg gives out the second he puts weight on it and he crumples forward. He's only barely able to register that hitting the ground is going to really hurt before something catches him, something that's not even there. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Kanan, his eyes closed, an arm stretched towards him. It must be the Force holding him up, that mystical energy that only the Jedi can manipulate. Kallus can't even feel it, he just knows that something is keeping him from falling forward.

"I've got you," Zeb says, crouching in front of Kallus and lowering him to the floor. The invisible force around him disappears. "Let's take a look at you, huh?"

Kallus blinks at Zeb, then realizes too slowly that he means to tend to Kallus' injuries. Suddenly, all he can think about was the young woman who had been down the hall from him when he first arrived on the Ghost, her lower arm completely crushed. She's going to need to have it amputated, Kallus knows, and keeping her stable for long enough to get her to the Rebel base is going to be hard, and Kallus' injuries are no where near bad enough to justify taking away medical supplies from the other rebels like her.

"I'm fine," he tells Zeb hoarsely. "I'm fine-"

"Look, you're clearly not-"

"Don't _touch_ me!" Kallus snaps, the words leaving his mouth before he can think better of them. His heart is pounding and he doesn't know why and Zeb is far too close and he can't _breathe_ -

"Kallus." Zeb is gone and Kanan is kneeling in front of Kallus now. He's giving him more space than Zeb, and that's a bit better, but Kallus still feels like the room is spinning and his chest hurts and his breathing is ragged and he hasn't felt like this for _years_ he doesn't know what to do-

"Breathe with me," Kanan says slowly. "Breathe with me, Kallus. Can I take your hand?"

Kallus shakes his head wildly. The thought of anyone touching him is only making this worse. If Kanan touches him, he thinks he might fall apart entirely. Too late, he realizes Kanan can't see him shaking his head, but somehow he seems to get it anyway.

"Okay," Kanan says, his voice lulling. "Okay. Can you breathe with me? In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four."

Kallus tries his best to match Kanan's rhythm, but his breaths are still too ragged. Kanan doesn't seem to mind. "There you go. Come on, Kallus, breathe with me. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four."

Kallus finally manages to slow his breathing to the same rate as Kanan's. His heart isn't pounding quite so hard anymore, although the pain in his chest doesn't diminish at all. "There you go," Kanan says again in a slow, calming voice. "You've got it. You're okay."

Kallus huffs out a sad attempt at a laugh, because absolutely _nothing_ is okay. But he doesn't feel quite as horrible as he did a minute ago, so perhaps Kanan isn't entirely wrong.

Then he realizes that the entire rest of the crew is still there, and they're all staring at him, and Kallus' heart rate starts to speed up again and he tries to stand so he can get the hell out of there, and then _pain_ -

Kanan catches him when he slumps forward, but Kallus hardly feels it. " _Sleep_ ," he hears Kanan say, his voice oddly resonant, and Kallus does.

* * *

Kanan grunts when Kallus goes boneless against him, shifting slightly to accommodate his weight better. The Force suggestion holds, not that it needs much power behind it to work. Kallus is exhausted, so much so that Kanan can feel it bleeding out into the Force. He can also, if he opens himself up a little, feel the agony that Kallus is in. Honestly, he's surprised Kallus stayed conscious this long.

"Is he out?" Hera asks.

"He's out," Kanan confirms. "And he might say he's fine, but he's gonna need serious medical attention."

"What just happened?" Ezra demands, his voice shaking just the tiniest bit.

"Panic attack," Kanan says heavily. "Honestly, after the day Kallus must have had, I'm not that surprised."

Kanan can still feel Ezra's shock resonating in the Force, along with a bit of fear. He tries to remember what panic attacks look like and realizes that, if Ezra's never seen one before, it probably did look pretty scary. Regardless, the fact that Ezra was that worried about Kallus says a lot.

"He can sleep in my bed," Zeb offers. "Probably shouldn't stick him in the cargo bay with the others."

"Nah, he can sleep in mine," Kanan replies. He's intimately familiar with the tension he can feel radiating from Hera right now, and considering how these nights usually go, he doesn't think he's going to be using his bed. "I'll bunk with Hera."

"You will, will you?" Hera mutters under her breath, but she doesn't disagree. On the contrary, Kanan can feel her relief. She doesn't like asking for this, he knows, but he's never been anywhere near as hesitant about offering it.

"Zeb, can you carry Kallus to my room?" Kanan asks. "We should figure out what his injuries are so we can treat them."

"Of course," Zeb replies, but he doesn't actually pick Kallus up. "Um, how am I gonna carry him without hurting him more?"

It's a fair question. As far as Kanan can sense, Kallus is battered enough that it seems likely that touching him anywhere would hurt. "I'm using the Force to keep him asleep," Kanan says, tightening his grip on the sleep suggestion. "He's too deeply under to feel any pain."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

Zeb tentatively takes Kallus out of Kanan's arms. The suggestion continues to hold, and Kallus doesn't wake.

"Ezra, Sabine, collect whatever medical supplies we can spare and bring them to my room," Kanan says. "Zeb and I will start looking over Kallus."

"Okay," Sabine replies. Kanan hears her and Ezra leave the bridge.

"I'll man the bridge," Hera says.

"Chopper can do it," Kanan counters. Chopper makes an irritated noise at being volunteered. "You should sleep, Hera."

"I don't think I'm going to be able to," Hera replies honestly. "I'll stay here for now."

"I'll find you after we get Kallus settled," Kanan promises softly.

"Not that you two aren't as entertaining as a Holonet soap opera," Zeb says dryly, "but Kallus isn't exactly light over here."

"Let's get him to my room," Kanan says, walking off the bridge. He hears Zeb following him, taking Kallus over to Kanan's bedroom. Kanan palms open the door, then steps aside to let Zeb go in and lay Kallus down on the bed. Kanan follows him in and sits on the edge of the bed by Kallus' head.

"How does he look?" Kanan asks, sending out gentle waves of the Force to try and assess internal injuries.

"Black eye, pretty swollen," Zeb reports. "Split lip. Bruises everywhere. His leg doesn't look quite right, and he's breathing a little funny."

"Two broken ribs, pretty much all the others seem cracked," Kanan reports. "His leg isn't fully broken, but I think the bone might be cracked a bit. He's concussed."

"What do you need me for, when you can get the Force to do that?" Zeb demands.

"Your charming personality," Kanan replies without skipping a beat.

"Here's what we have left of the medical supplies," Sabine announces as she and Ezra enter the room. "It's not much."

"A couple perigen patches, some bacta, and a decent amount of bandages," Ezra lists. "We'll be able to get more on Yavin, but for now, this is all we can spare."

Kanan frowns. Even once they get to Yavin, they won't be able to give Kallus as much medical care as he probably should have. A bacta tank wouldn't be out of the question for wounds like this, but Kanan doubts they have enough bacta for that. The most concerning wounds are the ones are the broken ribs and the concussion, closely followed by the cracked leg, so those will have to be the top priorities.

"Okay, let's get him undressed," Kanan says. "Zeb, you'll need to hold him up. Kids, I'm gonna need one of you to help me over here."

Kanan hears a quiet but furious argument at the door before Ezra groans and stomps further into the room. Sabine slips back out.

"Okay, Zeb," Kanan says. "I think we should get this breastplate off first. That can't be good for his ribs."

"Alright," Zeb says. Kanan can hear him shifting around. The sheets rustle slightly. "Okay, he's upright. You can get the armor off."

"Ezra, help me with this," Kanan says. He reaches out and finds one clasp, unbuckling it. Ezra unbuckles the other one and they gently take it off Kallus' chest.

Kallus' breathing evens out a bit. The breastplate must have been compressing his ribs in a way that definitely had to be uncomfortable, if not outright painful. "Alright, Ezra, let's get his shirt off," Kanan directs.

After the shirt, they take Kallus' pants off, leaving him in his underclothes. "Okay, that's good," Kanan says. He hears Ezra heave a soft sigh of relief. "Zeb, do you see a knot on his head anywhere? I want to know where he hit it."

"Hmm." Kanan can hear Kallus' hair rustle softly. "Found it. We should put a bandage on this."

"Ezra?"

Ezra passes Kanan a bacta-soaked bandage and helps him place it over the knot on the back of Kallus' head. "Now his ribs," Kanan says. "I don't want to wrap all of them, but we should put bacta over the broken ones."

"Where are they?" Ezra asks.

"Reach out with the Force," Kanan instructs. "You should be able to feel which ones are broken and which ones are cracked."

Kanan feels Ezra's senses expand. After a moment, he smears bacta over two spots on Kallus' chest.

"Were those the right ones?"

"Good job," Kanan compliments, pressing bandages over the bacta. "Now his leg, then I think we've dealt with the most important things."

"I can do his leg," Zeb offers. Kanan can hear him getting a bacta bandage ready. "Can you hold it up?"

"I can," Kanan agrees, taking Kallus' leg and lifting it gently. His sleep suggestion continues to hold, thankfully.

Zeb puts the bandage in place. "Right," he says. "Is that everything?"

"That's all we've got supplies for," Ezra replies.

"Someone should stay with him," Kanan suggests. "He shouldn't wake up alone."

"I'll stay," Zeb volunteers. "Kid, give me some of those perigen patches. He'll need 'em when he wakes up."

Kanan hears rustling. "Here," Ezra says. "Kanan, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going back to the bridge. I told Hera I would," Kanan replies.

"Mom and Dad need some alone time," Zeb adds, a smirk clear in his words.

"Ezra, you and Sabine should get some rest," Kanan adds, ignoring Zeb entirely. "Do you have any idea where Rex got off to?"

"He was helping in the cargo bay when I was in there," Ezra replies. "I think he was planning on bunking in there."

"Have you seen AP-5? I was thinking he and Chopper could stay on the bridge while Hera got some rest."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Ezra asks tentatively. "They don't get along very well."

"I think fighting like that is their way of getting along," Zeb puts in.

"They can get along long enough to pilot us to Yavin," Kanan says. "Hera needs to sleep."

"Like I said," Zeb drawls. "Mom and Dad need some alone time."

"I'll find Sabine," Ezra says quickly. "And I'll find AP-5."

"Thanks, Ezra," Kanan replies. "Zeb, are you good in here?"

"I'm good," Zeb replies. Kanan can feel his sympathy towards Kallus radiating out into the Force, a sympathy that, even a few years ago, he would never have levered on him. "Go make Hera rest."

"I'll do my best," Kanan replies, saluting. He leaves the room and heads back up to the bridge.

Hera's exhaustion is bleeding out into the Force. "You need to sleep," Kanan says in lieu of a greeting.

"Someone needs to be on the bridge," Hera counters. "Everyone's exhausted. I can manage-"

"Chopper is here, and Ezra is getting AP-5," Kanan interrupts. "They'll wake us if they need us, but you need sleep."

Hera sighs. "Fine," she relents. "Chop, make sure you do enough jumps before we get to Yavin. We can't risk anyone following us."

Chopper beeps out a slightly irritated agreement. "Come on," Kanan says, taking Hera's hand in his. "Let's go to bed."

Hera falls asleep almost the second her head hits the pillow. Kanan stays awake a little longer, using the Force to try to keep Hera's sleeping mind from wandering down darker paths. But he's exhausted too, and before too long, his eyes drift shut.

* * *

Kallus' early dreams are unformed, little more than a sense of unease. But as time goes on, they gain more shape until they coalesce into Thrawn. He has two Death Troopers hold Kallus in place while he takes down rebel ship after rebel ship, and Kallus screams as the Ghost explodes in a fiery ball-

And then Thrawn is the Lasat mercenary from Onderon, and he's slaughtering member after member of Kallus' platoon, and then he kills Kanan, and Hera, and Ezra, and-

"Kallus!" a voice shouts, and Kallus' eyes fly open, and there's a Lasat leaning over him.

He doesn't think. He acts.

Kallus' punch sends the Lasat reeling. He's in too much pain to go far, but he manages to pull himself into the corner of the bunk, where he's the most secure. He looks around for anything to use as a weapon, but he doesn't recognize his surroundings.

The Lasat mutters a curse - _karabast,_ why is that familiar? - and takes a step forward. "Kallus," he says, his voice gentle, "you're alright. You're on board the Ghost, yeah? We've got you in Kanan's room. You're safe."

Kallus stares, his heart racing and his breaths coming far too fast, and then he remembers. Thrawn discovered he was a traitor. Pryce tried to have him executed, but he got away. The Ghost crew rescued him.

Onderon was years ago and a galaxy away. This is Zeb, not the mercenary. He's safe.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice unexpectedly hoarse. "I didn't mean-"

"No problem," Zeb replies. "You're not the only one who comes out of nightmares swinging. Kanan sent me flying out the door with the Force one time." Zeb takes another step forward, slowly. "You want to get out of that corner? Hunching over like that can't be good for your ribs."

Kallus blinks slowly, then moves slowly out of the corner. His ribs do hurt, although they feel a bit better than they did before he fell asleep.

"You didn't mess up your bandages, did you?" Zeb asks.

Kallus looks down. That would explain why he seems to have healed more than he expected. There are a few bandages on his chest, presumably over his broken ribs, and there's a bandage wrapped around his leg. He reaches a hand up and finds another around his head.

"You shouldn't have wasted medical supplies on me."

"Wasn't a waste," Zeb counters. "You were injured, you needed treatment. Hopefully, there'll be enough extra stuff at Yavin for us to do a bit more, but for now, this should jumpstart your healing."

"I-" Kallus bites off the rest of the sentence. He doesn't deserve this amount of care, he knows that, but he doesn't want to say it aloud. He knows it's selfish, but he doesn't want to hear Zeb agree.

"We only have a couple of perigen patches, but you can use one," Zeb adds. "Ezra and Sabine only took what we could spare, so you don't need to worry about wasting supplies or taking 'em from other people. We should be able to restock on Yavin anyway."

Kallus is in enough pain that he knows he should probably use a patch, but despite what Zeb is saying, he still can't bring himself to do it. "I'm fine."

Zeb frowns. "No, you're not," he replies, his voice achingly gentle. "You can pretend you are for a while, but I can see you're not."

Kallus ducks his head. He doesn't want to look Zeb in the eye, especially not when Zeb is being so horribly gentle and kind with him. "I'm fine."

"What did Thrawn do to you?"

"Nothing more than I expected," Kallus replies. "Less than I expected, really. I didn't think I would-"

He bites off the end of the sentence again, but this time, Zeb knows what he was going to say. "You weren't expecting to come out alive, were you?"

"If Thrawn found out my identity," Kallus replies, choosing his words carefully, "I was always aware that death was a potential outcome."

"Then why didn't you let Ezra get you out of there when he had the chance?" Zeb demands.

"I could still do good as a spy," Kallus replies. "Or so I thought."

"You did do good, Kallus," Zeb says, his voice firm but not unkind. "You saved lives."

"Thrawn would never have known where your base was if I hadn't fallen for his tricks-"

"And if you hadn't sent the message, we would have been slaughtered over Lothal," Zeb counters. "We never thought we'd be able to stay on Chopper Base forever. We knew Thrawn could find us. Your message might have been intended to warn us about Lothal, but the bit that got through gave us a bit of warning that something was coming before Thrawn's attack. You saved lives again today, Kallus-"

"He never would have gotten there if not for me!" Kallus explodes, his voice desperate. He needs them to understand this, he needs them to stop pitying him as if he's a victim here too. Sooner or later, they'll realize, he knows that, and he doesn't think he'll be able to bear it if the realization is dragged out. "I watched your ships explode, I watched Commander Sato's ship go down, I was there while Thrawn planned his ground assault, I know what he did to you. And I know it was my fault!"

Zeb seems a little thrown by the outburst. Kallus shrinks in on himself a little bit, waiting for Zeb's response. This is it, this is going to be the moment when Zeb gives up on him, and he'll have every reason to do so, but it's still going to hurt.

"I don't know how else to say it, but it wasn't your fault," Zeb says instead. "Look, we've all fallen for Thrawn's tricks before. We've all fallen for Imperial tricks, period. Are you saying that we're at fault for every person who was caught in the crossfire when the Imps got the better of us?"

"No, of course not-"

"So why are you at fault this time?"

"I've been at fault every time," Kallus spits. "The Imperials were at fault for all of the innocent deaths, and I was an Imperial. I caused the deaths of millions of people, and I just caused the death of so many on Atollon, and-"

"And you're not am Imperial anymore," Zeb interrupts. "Is this what you were so upset about this whole time?"

Kallus presses his lips together and looks away.

"Kal, you're not an Imp!" Zeb cries. "Unless there's something you're not telling me, and- Okay, sorry, bad time for a joke."

"They all looked at me as if I were," Kallus retorts. "They all thought I was."

"Who's they?"

"The survivors from Atollon," Kallus says. His breathing is quickening again. He doesn't want to panic again, not like he did before on the bridge. He tries to focus on slowing his breathing, but his lungs won't obey him. "They all looked at me like I was an Imperial-"

"But you're not. You might have been undercover, but you're a rebel at heart."

 _"You have the heart of a rebel,"_ Thrawn said, and Kallus replied, _"I'll take that as a compliment."_

It was a compliment, although Thrawn hadn't meant it as such. Now, Kallus is beginning to wonder if it's true.

"I think I'm going to miss it," he admits. The words barely make it out of his throat. "Not what we did, but the order of it all. I've been part of the Empire since there was an Empire to be part of. I don't know-"

He doesn't let the end of the sentence pass his lips. How can he say this to Zeb, whose entire home planet was destroyed by the Empire ( _by Kallus-_ ), who has been on the run from the Empire ever since, who has lost so much to the very Empire that Kallus is now missing.

"We're not very orderly here," Zeb replies, his words easier than Kallus would think they would be. "It's alright to feel a little lost, Kal."

"What did you call me?" It's the second time he's used the name, and Kallus doesn't understand.

"Huh?" Zeb asks, looking a little confused. "I called you Kal. You know, short for Kallus. Do you not like it?"

"Why would you call me that?" Kallus whispers. "Why would you- I've fought you so many times, I've done so much to hurt you and your people and your family, why would you give me a _nickname_ -"

"Kallus," Zeb says firmly. Kallus swallows and ducks his head, but Zeb lifts his chin and forces him to meet his eyes. "Here in the Rebellion, we believe in forgiveness. You're not the only ex-Imperial on our side. Sure, we don't hand out pardons to everyone who comes knocking, but when people prove that they're on our side, when they prove they regret what they did with the Empire, then we're willing to give them a second chance."

"But Thrawn-"

"You screwed up," Zeb interrupts. "Does it make you feel better if I say it?"

Oddly enough, it does.

"Thrawn found us because of your transmission. You were doing what you thought was best, but Thrawn used it against you. I don't know if I would have done anything different in your position. I don't blame you for Thrawn finding us. I understand that he used you to do it, but I don't blame you."

"Maybe you should," Kallus says.

"Maybe," Zeb agrees. "But I don't, and nothing you say will convince me otherwise. And trust me, it's the same for the rest of the crew. None of us blames you."

"I should have gone with Bridger when he offered me an extraction," Kallus says quietly.

Zeb shrugs. "Yeah, probably. But you had no way of knowing that Thrawn had figured you out. You thought you'd implicated someone else. You didn't know."

"Ignorance isn't an excuse."

"In this case, I think it sort of is."

Kallus doesn't know why, but this sympathy doesn't feel as horribly false and cloying as the previous sympathy did. Maybe it's just Zeb's acknowledgment that Kallus' actions did lead to Thrawn finding them. Maybe it's something about the way Zeb's saying it. He can't quite place it, whatever it is.

But he feels better, and his breaths are coming a little easier now.

"Do you want to borrow some new clothes?" Zeb asks. "We still have your Imperial uniform, in case someone needs to use it for infiltration at some point, but it might be best if you don't put it back on."

"I don't want it," Kallus says. He might miss the order and stability of the Empire, despite how little he wants to admit it, but he doesn't want to wear that uniform ever again.

"You don't need to wear it," Zeb replies. "But Kanan is about your height. You'd probably fit in his stuff."

Kanan's clothing is a little short in the leg, but it mostly fits otherwise. Kallus is fairly certain it's more comfortable than anything he's ever worn with the Empire. He feels a little awkward in it, less formal than he's been in years, even in his sleepwear.

"Suits you," Zeb says when he comes out of the fresher.

Kallus raises an eyebrow. "Really," he says dryly. It isn't a question.

Zeb shrugs. "Could come to suit you, then. If you grew that hair out a bit and stopped slicking it back."

"Thank you for the fashion advice."

"Happy to give it."

Kallus tugs the shirt down a bit and sits down on the bed again. His ribs ache a bit at the change in his posture, but his leg is unwilling to accept his weight for even a moment longer. His head is still pounding.

"Look, I feel like I'm in pain just looking at you," Zeb says. Kallus blinks up at him and sees a perigen patch held in front of his face. "Just use it."

"It's not that bad."

"For star's sake, Kallus, use the damn patch."

Kallus sets his jaw.

"Oh, for _star's sake_ -" Zeb grabs Kallus' arm and yanks it forward, making Kallus aware of a slight pain his shoulder that he hadn't even known was there, probably from having his arms manipulated in so many uncomfortable positions. He grabs the patch and Kallus realizes what he's about to do just soon enough to stop him.

"No!" he snaps, yanking his arm away with all his strength. He manages to do it, but he thinks that might be partially from shock. Zeb is looking at him with wide eyes.

"You're in pain," he says, sounding confused. "Just use the damn patch."

"I don't want to use it," Kallus says stiffly.

"Is this something about us not having enough, because we can spare you one, Kal-"

"I don't like them," Kallus interrupts. "In the Empire- Painkillers are not encouraged, but when they _are_ used- I don't like them."

"This is just a perigen patch," Zeb says gently. "It's not gonna have any side effects, it's not going to do anything to you except make you hurt a little less."

Kallus was never given a choice about whether or not he would use painkillers when he was with the Empire. But the drugs they would give him were far more potent than a simple perigen patch; they would block off all pain receptors, so until they wore off, the user was unable to feel pain at all. And they would give a burst of adrenaline, so strong you couldn't help but act. Often, those soldiers ended up at the front lines. Often, those soldiers were the ones who died first. If they weren't, then they had to deal with the comedown from the drugs, which was worse than the pain had been in the first place.

Consciously, Kallus knows a perigen patch will not have the same effect, but he just can't let it touch his skin.

"I don't want it."

"Kallus-"

" _I don't want it._ If you're going to force me to use it, do it, but if you care about how I feel, do not use that perigen patch on me, Garazeb Orrelios."

Zeb stares at Kallus for a long moment. Kallus wonders if he's going to force the patch on him after all. He wonders what he'll do if Zeb does.

"I shouldn't have grabbed your arm like that," Zeb finally says. "It's your choice. I think you should use it, and I promise you it'll be okay if you do, but if you really don't feel comfortable, that's your decision."

"I don't feel comfortable."

"Then that's it."

Kallus blinks. He hadn't expected it to be that easy. "Oh."

"I would never-" Zeb cuts himself off and looks down at the perigen patch still in his hand. He gets up and puts it on the shelf. "If you want it later, it'll be here."

"The others-"

"We can spare it," Zeb interrupts. He stands and holds out a hand for Kallus. "Wanna go see the others?"

 _Everyone looked at Kallus with such condemnation in their eyes, and he knew he deserved it, but he wished he didn't-_

"I don't think it's a good idea for me to see the survivors."

"Nah, not the survivors," Zeb replies, shaking his head. "Rex has them under control. I meant Hera and Kanan and the kids. No pressure, but I know they were pretty worried about you yesterday."

"They were?" It's an alien feeling, to have someone worrying about him.

"Yeah, they were. Wanna see them?"

Kallus tentatively takes Zeb's and pulls himself upright. "Alright."

The other crew members are in the lounge. "Kallus!" Hera cries the second he and Zeb enter. She gets up and ushers Kallus over to her seat. "Sit down, your leg looks terrible."

"Thank you." Kallus looks around, feeling the urge to pull in his shoulders a little. He wishes everyone would stop staring right at him.

"Are you, uh, feeling better?" Ezra asks. He looks uncomfortable. "You know-"

"Ezra was worried about you," Sabine interrupts, sounding smug. "I think he's still trying to process it."

"Shut up, Sabine!"

"I'm feeling better, thank you," Kallus replies. "And thank you for the medical supplies."

"I'm only sorry we didn't have more," Kanan replies. "You could use bacta for all your ribs, not just the broken ones."

"I'll heal," Kallus replies. He turns to Kanan. "I- I borrowed some of your clothes. Zeb said it was alright. I'm-"

"It's fine," Kanan says, cutting Kallus off before he can apologize. "You needed something. We'll find you some clothes of your own when we get to Yavin."

"Thank you," Kallus murmurs, putting his hands in his lap and looking down at them. He can still feel everyone's gazes on him, but he does his best to ignore them. If he doesn't, he's worried he'll have another panic attack, and he doesn't want that. It's bad enough that he had one in front of the Ghost crew. He doesn't want to add another to that list.

"We're all friends here," Hera says gently. "You don't have to be so formal, Kallus. I don't require that sort of thing on my ship."

Kallus forces his face not to show any emotion. He knows the Rebels don't _require_ this sort of formality, but he needs that sort of distance to keep himself controlled. He told Zeb he thought he might miss being an Imperial, and he's not quite sure that's the right way to put it, but he does miss the organization of it already. Kallus likes things to be organized, to be _just so_. He likes to know what he's getting into before he enters a situation. He likes to have control. He knows he won't have many of those things with the Rebellion, but he doesn't think he can give up all of them quite yet. Formality is simple, a small thing, but he thinks it might be enough to keep him composed.

"Are you really complaining about a bit of politeness?" Kanan asks. Kallus has the feeling that Kanan knows everything he was just thinking. "You're always after us to be more polite. Shouldn't you be happy about this?"

Hera blinks once, looking a little surprised, then her face relaxes. "I guess you have a point," she replies, shrugging. Kallus knows she's just going along with Kanan, knows they're just humoring him, but he tries his best not to think about that. He needs a distraction from his own mind, but he has no idea what that distraction could be. He's sure he'll find something to do on Yavin, assuming the Rebellion trusts him enough to let him do anything, but here, on such a small ship, he doesn't know what to do.

"How long to Yavin?" Zeb asks, clearly trying to smooth over the awkward silence.

"About an hour," Hera replies. "We're doing one more hyperspace jump, then we'll be there."

"Good," Ezra groans. "The ship is so stuffed! We never have this many people onboard!"

"Are you really complaining that we have a lot of extra passengers?" Hera asks. Her voice isn't quite gentle, but it's not harsh either.

Ezra ducks his head. "No," he mumbles.

Kanan's comm beeps. He steps to the side to answer it. "Ten credits says it's AP-5 complaining about Chopper," Zeb says.

"You wouldn't win that bet," Kanan replies, coming back over. "It's Rex. He needs a hand with the survivors. Ezra, Sabine, can you go down and help?"

"Sure," Sabine replies. She pushes Ezra out of her way, ignoring his startled yelp as he hits the ground, and then offers him a hand up to go down to the cargo bay. Kallus tries to keep his face as steady as he can as he watches. No one would ever do something like that in the Empire, not even in an Imperial Academy. Kallus hasn't seen such playful fighting for years.

"Zeb, can you look over the supplies and see what we need to restock on Yavin?" Hera asks. "I need to go up to the bridge."

Zeb looks at Kallus for a moment, who ducks his head to avoid Zeb's gaze. "Sure," he says after a moment. "Just don't send AP-5 after me."

"I'll have him look over your records after," Hera replies. "I think you'll both be more efficient that way."

Kallus can't imagine why that would be more efficient than doing it all at the same time, but he's already accepted that he doesn't understand this ship and crew very much. It's very different from the Empire.

Zeb and Hera go off to do their respective jobs, leaving Kallus alone with Kanan in the lounge. "You want something to do?" Kanan asks after a moment.

"Pardon?"

"Do you want something to do?" Kanan repeats. "I know it can be hard to just sit around and do nothing. And we've picked up a few coded Imperial transmissions between hyperspace jumps. Think you could decode them?"

"Perhaps," Kallus replies. "You would trust me to do that?"

"I think you've proven that you're trustworthy," Kanan replies. He pulls out a datapad and slides it over to Kallus. "Have at it."

Kallus looks down at the datapad. The first transmission is in a code that he recognizes. Encoding and decoding messages is normally the work of droids, but all ISB agents are supposed to know the basic Imperial codes, in case they ever have to encode or decode a message without the aid of a droid. By all accounts, before his defection, Kallus was an excellent ISB agent.

He takes a deep breath and begins writing out the translation for the encoded message. The work is just engaging enough to keep his mind occupied and unable to dwell on other things, but it's not physical, so Kallus is able to do it, regardless of his injuries.

After he's been working for a while, Kanan gets up and slides him a bowl of a thin soup. "Sorry we don't have anything more, but our food supplies are stretched a little thin," he says. "It's not bad, though."

"Thank you," Kallus murmurs. It's not much, and it doesn't have all that strong a taste, but at least it's warm. "Thank you for everything."

"I think I should be thanking you," Kanan replies. "You've done a lot for the Rebellion, at great personal cost. Thank you for that."

Kallus looks down at his soup, unable to bring himself to raise his eyes. "After all that I did with the Empire…"

Kanan reaches over and rests a hand on Kallus' shoulder. "It's never too late to change for the better. You did horrible things with the Empire, yes, but now you're making amends."

"It's not enough," Kallus replies, shaking his head. "After all I did, it will never be enough."

"It's a start," Kanan says, squeezing Kallus' shoulder gently. "It might not be enough yet, but it's a start."

Kallus looks at Kanan. His mask is off, and his sightless eyes are gentle.

Kallus doesn't deserve that gentleness, but by all the stars, he wants to.

"It's a start," he agrees tentatively, and Kanan smiles.


End file.
